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A poem about a young woman waiting for her lover's return. |
| I stand in the study, your favorite room. I stand by the window, waiting for your return. The war is over; the soldiers are coming home. When will you be home? It’s been six years; to me, an eternity. I miss the good times we had, I miss you. I move the curtain to see through the window, and sigh as I see nothing but sky and grass. The scent of roses fills the room as a servant calls out to me, reminding me that you have died in battle five years ago, and to come to dinner. I look towards the doorway then back to the window. I don’t believe it, I won’t. Because deep in my heart lies the truth, that you’re still alive. I am the Penelope, waiting for my Odysseus. Every day, I stand in the study, your favorite room. I stand by the window, waiting for your return. |